


your eyes are killing me softly

by beaubcxton



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, I dont really know what this is except it has ladynoir fluff, Identity Reveal, LadyNoir - Freeform, Social Media, not identity reveal centred, there's like one line where mari physically threatens Hawkmoth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 22:10:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20478266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beaubcxton/pseuds/beaubcxton
Summary: There are certain constants in life.For instance, the plethora of flowers that blossomed under the dew of spring, and the thunder of rain that coincided with lightning. Other more noticeable examples were the constant motion of the waves, the glimmer of the moon who always wept for the sun, and the stars who ached to kiss her mortals.Missing Chat Noir ― her partner, her incredibly loyal yet stupid, stupid partner ― was a constant.She missed her chaton, more than he could ever hope to know, and this was all so lame because she saw him yesterday.or, a ladynoir centred fic, featuring starry eyes, and rose cheeks.





	your eyes are killing me softly

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first Miraculous fanfiction I posted! I began writing it ages ago, but most of it was completed today because I wanted to post something honouring the four year anniversary! I love this fandom so much, and I hope you enjoy this little messy fic!

There are certain constants in life. 

For instance, the plethora of flowers that blossomed under the dew of spring, and the thunder of rain that coincided with lightning. Other more noticeable examples were the constant motion of the waves, the glimmer of the moon who always wept for the sun, and the stars who ached to kiss her mortals. 

There are other constants, of course, but they are linked to everyday people, which make them all the more valuable, the more sought of. Dreamers deemed love as a constant, cynics thought better ― differently. 

Chat Noir was a dreamer whose dreams consisted of smooth skin, masks barred and a beautiful name scrawled in calligraphy. They were tinted with the smooth polished tone of midnight, a little reckless, a lot careful. 

His love for Ladybug was a constant, his adoration never to waver, a circle with hardly any breaking points. 

Marinette, on the other hand, _ experienced _love as a constant, very akin to the permanent rotation of the planets she could count, from her parent’s warm suffocating hugs to her friend’s husky giggles to jokes she had long forgotten. 

Missing Chat Noir ― her partner, her incredibly loyal yet _ stupid _ , _ stupid _partner ― was a constant. 

He was everywhere in ways she could hardly take time to understand, sometimes. Some days, she would pass by a building and remember screaming his name when he took a hit for her. 

Other times she would pass by an ice cream shop and wonder if Chat went out to eat with his friends? Surely he must have, the friendly boisterous boy she believed him to be. What was his favorite ice cream flavour? Was her _ minou _a fan of the summer, or the winter? 

And, then she would come home and scroll through Tumblr, laugh at a meme of a cat with frosting on his snout and wish, wish more than anything she could send it to Chat. 

Perhaps, _ that _was the problem. Somehow, despite all her insistence, her partner who might have just hung her the stars and moon, secured a prominent place in her heart, and was reluctant to leave. She caught herself stumbling, barely blushing when Adrien caught her, and creating a folder ― the Chat Folder ― of screenshots, gifs and videos that were rubbish really, but granted to make Chat smile. 

They were friends, more than anything and his smile, _ mon dieu _, Marinette thought he could revive the whole world with that smile. The bravado he wore quickly melted when she let him rant about Harry Potter, or about anime, and the excitement in his tone was contagious. 

Dawn, no matter how glorious it had the tendency to become, with its hues of gold and blue, the very setting of a Shakespearean play commencing the start of a new day, trilling with the thrumming of sparrows, did not command her favorite part of the day anymore for that award was reserved to patrols with Chat. 

Marinette might have been the most tired human on the planet, but Ladybug thrived in the spotlight. 

Sprawled on a random rooftop, and laughing till their throats hurt, Marinette could easily forget that they were superheroes, but simply humans. Chat was just _ Chat, _her best friend who she might have met at a coffee station or screamed with at the pinnacle of a roller coaster. She entertained the idea that he was in her class, her partner who sniggered with her and told her stupid chemistry jokes. 

And, while she wouldn’t change her life for the world, she envied a universe where her person had met a boy who would gradually become the sole most important person in her universe, just because and not because two _ teenagers _were tied together to fight a terrorist attacking the city, a world where if she closed her eyes and thought of Chat, she would only marvel at his kind eyes, an unfailing compassionate heart. 

In this world, Marinette dreamed of that along with his blood soaking her skin, like tattoos she could never rid herself of. 

She had nightmares where she was a second too slow, sometimes her yo-yo ― designed to work efficiently ― simply failed, Hawkmoth would win and in all of them, she would lose Chat. 

She missed _ her _ chaton, more than he could ever hope to know, and this was all so _ lame _ because she saw him _ yesterday _. Even when she was with him, her heart ached pathetically and she ― foolishly, if anything ― noticed her throat burn the very moment she swung away from him. 

It was a universal fact of life, a constant if you will, that Marinette was hopelessly in love with Adrien Agreste, the epitome of sunshine and boundless stretches of sunflowers in a meadow. He was the reason her heart collapsed and seized, inspired the nausea that threatened to overtake her, the good kind of sickness that the infatuated receive at the sight of their loved ones. 

Yet, there was an irreplaceable bond between her partner and her, an incomparable one that she prized above all others. Chat was her best friend, the yin to her yang. nothing less, nothing more. 

Perhaps, she might have been dramatic but Chat and her created memories that she would never allow herself to forget, ones that would sustain the crushing momentum of time and war. They were practically ingrained in her DNA, at this point, and she frequently walked through those memories during particularly bad days. 

There were bizarre moments that popped up during the day, for example his wince as Zeus struck the heavens with his bolt, a collection of coloured green, reflecting starlight peering at her under a cone of ice cream, his yawn under the faint glow of the setting sun, beautiful raw organic moments of human life. 

How could she compare the boy with sunshine in his eyes to the one with moonlight in his?

They both held her heart, a precious little thing that was ready to shatter at a moment's notice. The statement held neither drama nor significance if one merely considered the importance of each boy in her life. 

* * *

Her phone dings but she ignores it in favour of contemplating the sea of stars above her. 

As a child, she’d always been fascinated with strings of starlights and constellations. Papan said that if one bared their heart to the sky, they’d help you find your soulmate. Maman thought him foolish but still blushed when he called her ‘the brightest star in his sky.’ 

Does Chat know the names of the constellations? He seemed like the type of person to be interested in that, who would point names of the stars and whisper stories about people who had faded from history books. 

Besides, she knows it’s Alya flooding her inbox with messages of Adrien, and honestly, she’s not ready to dive into another motivational speech ― a fancy synonym for a lecture. She loves Alya, she _ does _. Without Alya and her chaton, there wouldn’t be a Ladybug but it was exhausting to listen to theories and prospects of Adrien liking her, dating her when all the schemes she attempted were clearly a flop. 

**Alya C** : When are you going to ask him out? 

She’d been tempted to respond with _ never _yesterday but swiped it. 

**Marinette D.C** : Soon. 

As soon as she figured out how to maintain a conversation with him, which conveniently for her was never. 

“One cup of toffee nut latte for Ms. Ladybug? Also, referred to as my queen and Paris’s humble light?” 

Marinette rolls her eyes at his silly gusto but props herself up on her elbows, grinning at him and feeling her heart finally calm down. “I brought the pastries.” 

Chat scoops her up in a hug, and stuffs his nose into her neck. “I love you so much. Have I told you how amazing and wonderful you are? You’re the best, you know that right?” 

“If you love me now.” She hums, secretly feeling validated and hands him the bag she carried with her. “You’ll cry and marry me when you open it.” 

“My Lady, all you had to do is ask and I’ll propose right now.” 

“Stop flirting and open the bag, _ minou _.” 

He sends her a speculative glace, but tears into the bag and fixes her with a look of awe. “You brought me éclairs? From the Dupain Cheng Bakery? That’s the best bakery in France.” 

“Only the best for my favourite alley cat.” 

There’s a multitude of reasons on why Chat Noir is extremely easy to love. Marinette loves him because of his puns, although she’ll deny it, his smile and his dreams, his unwavering kindness, the way he acts with children, his protectiveness over people he holds close to his heart but she thinks the way he’s staring at her is the reason she loves him the most. 

It makes her a little sad that a handful of pastries, just little nothings she had reserved for them early in the morning because she’d known it was his favourite, rendered him speechless and led him to stare at her as if she’d hung the stars on his bedroom window. Silently, she swore to bring more pastries to patrol and pipe in some extra Nutella. 

Marinette had many roles: Scholar, Designer, Ladybug and now, an Amateur Baker who simply wanted to feed her cat who was much too scrawny for seventeen. 

“Am I really?” He asks her through a mouthful of chocolate. “Your favourite alley cat?”

“Considering I have only one of you.” She teases and bops his nose. “I’d have to say that you are. Also, my favourite superhero and definitely one of my favourite people.”

He visibly melts. “You’re my favourite superhero and person, Bug. Mine and the rest of Paris’s. Don't even deny it because we know it's true.”

She pauses and tries to fathom why Chat Noir is rarely given the credit he deserves. “I’ll make a blog about you then.”

Chat gives her a startled glance. “What?”

“On Tumblr.” She explains. “So, people can understand why you're the best part of this team.”

Her partner shakes his head at her in fond exasperation. “Would you believe I already have a blog about you?”

“That's so embarrassing.” 

“I’m the person reblogging art about my superhero partner. If anyone should be embarrassed, it should be me.”

“I’ll reblog my fair share of Chat Noir posts today. I wish we could text on Tumblr, or something. That would be great.”

Chat stops eating, places his croissant carefully on the bag and swirls towards her. “Why don't we exchange accounts? That's not going to compromise our identities, is it?”

Marinette stares at him. She’d be the one who suggested it, but didn't really consider the implications of it. 

“Does anyone from your personal life know about the account?”

“It’ll just be us, Buginette.” Chat flexes his hand and rolls his shoulders. “Do you want the url? My url is a pun, you’ll love it.”

A voice, sounding disturbingly like Tikki’s begged her to consider wisely. 

Three hours later, she doesn’t feel like crying as she makes her way home. The tears on her face have long since evaporated but another giggle threatens to burst as she thinks _ meowkitten _. 

He’s such a nerd. 

A second later, a Parisian will stare at her country’s strongest who is currently laughing hysterically by herself. 

* * *

**spottedlady**

r u proud of me? 

my url is a pun. 

a pun.

**meowkitten**

My Lady? 

**spottedlady**

no

its fucking juliet.

**meowkitten**

!!!!!!

And, would that make me your Romeo? 

But I must ask for the safety of this cat

(After all, what if you’re a poacher who wants to catnap me?) 

Is that you Buginette?

Wait, I’m going to pull a Dumbledore on you. 

What did I say to you when you bought me ice cream?

**spottedlady**

it is me, minou. 

don’t poachers want valuable assets? y would they kidnap you? 

trick question. you never let me buy ice cream.

**meowkitten**

My LADY!!

My LOVE !!

you can't see but my heart has stopped beating.

STOPPED

HOW TO FUNCTION AND HOW TO FAIL AT IT : A guide by chat noir

THAT URL. 

I’m so proud of you. 

**spottedlady**

you’re a sap. 

i cannot believe i fucking missed you.

**meowkitten**

YOUR sap

meowch. 

this cat has only nine lives 

**spottedlady**

….chat

**meowkitten**

????

**spottedlady**

you know,,,,,,

you're not actually a cat

right?

i mean, i know it's SHOCKING 

but

**meowkitten**

How dARE yoU??

You don't know that.

**spottedlady**

you're right. im sorry.

_ you are not allowed to send mesages to this tumblr anymore. _

**meowkitten**

i cannot believe you called me out just to ask me to unblock you.

either you’re 

A ) Really really bored

B) Miss me

**spottedlady**

i always miss u

u know that

**meowkitten**

?????

!!!!!!!!!

Have I died and gone to heaven? 

**spottedlady**

but im bored rn

**meowkitten**

…………..

im PAWFFENDED 

**spottedlady**

ANYWAY. 

I need to send you some things from the Chat Folder

**meowkitten**

The what? 

These are literally all puns and memes, and I love them. 

Are those fruit puns? I adore you. 

Do these puns have a deeper meaning? 

Because I love you too from the head tomatoes

Do you think I should call myself the Punning Master?

Maybe add an ‘Extraordinary’ at the end of it. 

**spottedlady**

do not call yourself punning master or i shall call for a divorce

the chat folder is a folder where i saved videos and pictures of things i thought you might like

it felt weird lmao to look at a joke and not tell u??

and during patrol, there were so many things i had to tell u, im obv going to miss more than a few

so i thought 

why not just keep a folder of these things so i can show u smday??

dont judge me lmao but I was going to ask for your number 

but u gave me ur url today 

and all is well except for the part where i can't stop texting you

which is bad 

bc i have to study for physics

( btw did you eat dinner ) 

**meowkitten**

My Lady, I am undeserving. 

I love you and I can’t even tell you how much this means to me? 

You make me go ajsdhsaj in the best possible way. 

I love you and thank you. 

So, yeah, anyway, this is nice. 

Texting you makes me happy. 

And, as much as I love the fact that we’re married, you cannot stop me. 

I’m the Punning Master. 

That sounds like an Akuma name? 

Why haven’t we fought an akuma who likes to pun? 

**spottedlady**

texting you made me happy too!

STOP 

Don’t jinx it. 

Last time, you wished for a candy akuma and we were stuck in toffee for ten solid minutes.

**meowkitten**

can't stop, won't stop. 

chat noir is now the punning master.

That toffee tasted great, and you know it. 

**spottedlady**

#BLOCKED

**meowkitten**

My lady!!!

Don't abandon me

This cat cannot fend for itself.

It's domesticated 

I’ll bring you chocolates next patrol.

**spottedlady**

im listening 

* * *

_"Tu es l’amour de ma vie.” Marinette whispers, pressing a kiss to his jaw and feeling it rattle through his bones. “J’ai besoin de toi.” _

_ Chat pulls her into his lap. His breath shakes her world, shatters her and sends her colliding with a thousand planets. “My Lady, why do you wreck me so?” _

_ “I think it’s only fair.” She manages to respond, her voice fading in the wind, and presses a kiss onto the bridge of his nose. “You drive me mad, minou.” _

_ He whines and brings her impossibly closer — close to kiss, close to pretend. “Marry me.” _

_ Her grin blazes like an inferno. “Only if you kiss me, mon ange.” _

_ He kisses her like a dream, and they melt on the rooftop, his mouth hovering over her neck and her hands caught in his hair. He kisses her till she’s reduced to shaky limbs and a pair of swollen lips. He kisses her after that too, and the sun rises and sets in one breath. _

_ This is how Marinette Dupain Cheng dies, with Chat’s lips pressed against hers, a beautiful death fit for the poets. _

Marinette opens her eyes and screams. “_ Oh mon dieu, oh mon dieu. _” 

Perhaps, for the first time in her life, she does not delay and postpone rising by a matter of seconds, but instead dashes to the washroom, before splashing water on her person and scrubbing her face. Her skin is burning — right to the tip of her toes which she flexes, and insanely thinks of the moment of Pride and Prejudice — with invisible wounds, of potential and a terrible obvious truth. Blood rushes to her face like water rushing into a room on the Titanic. 

_ A dream _ , she thinks and sinks to the floor, pressing a hand against her chest, _ it was all a dream. _

There is no just about it. Physics might have tricked her into thinking she had a brain that was inefficient, but Marinette wasn’t stupid enough to believe she couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason she had a dream about her partner. 

Her partner whose hands she could still feel ghosting her chin. 

This was extremely, insanely bad.

“Marinette?” Tikki asks, eyes large and worried. “What’s wrong?” 

There are certain secrets that you can’t keep to yourself. Marinette thought secrets were like rain. Once, they became too heavy, they were bound to slip and bid adieu to their vessels. 

Friends didn’t cry when they missed each other for a fortnight, friends didn’t consider meeting the other as the best part of their day, friends didn’t get a rush holding each other’s hands, friends didn’t dance under the glow of the setting sun and promise to get married if they weren’t in a relationship by thirty. 

Friends didn’t get dreams of kissing the other, and murmuring countless terms of endearment with their back pressed against a chimney. 

Had she mentioned her whole predicament was terrible? 

There are secrets — the relationship kind — that people are afraid to admit even to themselves. Marinette was not an exception to this fact, and only in the eerie quiet of her bathroom, hidden from the sun who was still sleeping, was she able to admit the truth behind her gestures towards Chat. 

She sighs, long and soft. “I think I like Chat Noir, Tikki.” 

* * *

**meowkitten**

akuma @ la rue 19

fuck its power is eternal sleep

seems to me this villian is more like a much needed genie.

**spottedlady**

be there in 5

**meowkitten**

i can feel my heart beating faster

**spottedlady**

fight the akuma chat!!??

* * *

**meowkitten**

I’m so horrified. 

**spottedlady**

What’s wrong? Are you okay? 

**meowkitten **

I missed out on an amazing opportunity!!!

**spottedlady**

That sucks :( 

Don’t worry about it too much x

I’m sure you’ll have a chance to do it later. 

**meowkitten**

If you insist. 

What do you call a sleeping bull? 

A bull dozer.

**spottedlady**

I honestly thought you had an actual problem. 

**meowkitten**

The pun was great, though!

Oui or non?

**spottedlady**

NON!!!

* * *

Poets scribble about a time when lovers of love feel a tingle in their spines, the shadow of a breath on spectacles and chaste heartfelt kisses. The light will clear for a mere fraction of a second, enough time for thousands to slip into Aphrodite’s embrace. It’s the day of becoming, a day of finding your soulmate. 

Soulmates might have been the boy next door, one’s childhood best friend or your worst enemy. Marinette wondered who her soulmate, if such a person existed, could be. It was said that one day you woke up and your heart would contain the magnitude of the sun, your hands would ache to hold the other, and your head would be a garden of stars. 

Love, it appeared, was experienced differently. 

To her Papa and Maman, love was the soft and lazy kisses, the buds of flour on noses, and the most gentlest touches of the waist. Paris thought love to be tight hugs, spinning of hearts across the Eiffel Tower. Alya thought love was her sister’s vain exclamations, Nino’s nimble fingers grasping for hers. 

Marinette? She thought love was freedom, and running across rooftops, so close to the moon that if you stretched on your tiptoes, it was easy to believe that you could touch the sky. Her life had heartbeats of moment when the world tilted off its axis and threw her on her knees, so lost, so hopeful. 

It was a coupe de foudre, falling in love with Adrien. If she closed her eyes, she could remember his smile and the touch of his hands as he offered her the umbrella, the lightning that splintered her heart and the taste of rain slipping down her cheeks. It was a thunderbolt, a flash and suddenly, she was in love and that was the start of the beginning. 

Falling in love was Chat was un histoire d’amour, from the very moment they’d tumbled onto the pavement. It was as natural as breathing, as swimming, as if loving someone whose name she could hardly ask was a routine of life. How could she not choose to love him? 

And, it terrified her that on some level, she already believed Chat to be her soulmate. 

Her definition of love expands, just a bit to include laughing at puns — not because they were funny, but because her happiness had no limits especially when it was faced with a smile that the Gods themselves swooned at. 

This is a little too strange, she thinks, imagining a little Emma Noir but Chat felt like home, and wasn’t love the sense of belonging — of home?

* * *

**spottedlady**

okay but can you teach me physics 

**meowkitten**

I will attempt to teach you Physics

Unfortunately, I suck as well.

**spottedlady**

didn’t you score a 96 on that physics test you told me abt

**meowkitten**

I regret telling you. 

I was just happy I p a s s e d 

**spottedlady**

………….

i WILL fling u off a rooftop

**meowkitten**

Even though you love me? Rude. 

I’ll teach you physics.

Don’t blame me if you fail. 

**spottedlady**

Nerd

* * *

“A displacement is a vector whose length is the shortest distance from the initial to the final position of a point P. Do you know what’s a vector quantity?” 

“Not now, Chat.” Ladybug groans and ducks in order to avoid a flurry of arrows. “Sense the mood.” 

“Hey, do you know why electricity an ideal citizen? Because it conducts itself so well.” 

Duck, roll, jump. 

“Rue the day I asked you to teach me physics. I should have known your lessons would only comprise of puns.” 

The akuma roars and charges. “THE BARDE DE SANG WILL EXTRACT HER VENGEANCE” 

Ladybug clutched the stitch in her side and called upon her lucky charm. 

They’d been chasing the akuma for nearly _ three _hours. Apparently, the akuma was rejected from a top university because the professor believed them to be incapable of handling the sight of blood. In return, the akuma sought to inject every citizen it came across. 

A needle falls into her hands. 

“Not to be _ bloody _annoying, but could you please lower your voice? Kids are trying to study here”

“Give me your miraculous!”

“You’d think they’d come up with something original by now.” Chat mutters, “ — Ladybug! Watch out!” 

Marinette has hardly time to blink before she’s knocked off her feet and sent sprawling, wind stolen from her lungs. Taking a moment to find her bearings, she blinks, eyes watering with dust, and nearly vomits when she finds Chat, smiling softly at her with an arrow lodged in his chest. 

It’s comical, really, nearly funny that Marinette had such an intolerance to blood. Years ago, Maman cut her hand while cooking, and she’d nearly fainted at the sight of her mother’s blood. They laughed about it afterwards, but somehow, the sight of her partner in such dire conditions, seconds after he saved her life, ranked on the worst scenarios that could possibly be imagined. 

“Chaton.” She cries, nearly crawling over to him. “Oh my god, oh my god, what do I do?” 

“What you do best, My Lady.” The answer is a wince. “Defeat the akuma.”’

Her earrings beep, and forcibly reminded, Marinette ― as reluctant as she is, presses a kiss on Chat’s cheek, and shuffles his hair, warmth flowing in her chest as a garden of roses bloomed on Chat’s face. The plethora of emotions she holds is as countless as the colors present in the rainbow, and with a sudden baffling surge of strength and fury, she nearly throws herself at the akuma. 

“What have you done?” Her voice is raw, like a bandage ripped off from a red wound. “You can’t just _ hurt _people. When I find you Hawkmoth, I’ll break every bone in your body.” 

Le Barde De Sange abruptly pauses, purple mask glowing past her nose bridge. Seizing advantage of the distraction, Marinette hurls her yoyo towards the victim, and rushing rips the letter in her breast pocket.

Thrusting the needle she’d called upon into the air, she spares a second to purify the akuma before she turns, hoping to every immortal deity she remembered in History Class, that it wasn’t too late, he was alright, and safe. 

Marinette turns. 

There he is, blonde hair fluttering in the breeze and green eyes sparkling, silently communicating the magnitude of trust he firmly had in her, leaning on his baton, so casually that it was hard to reconcile that it was the same boy who had nearly bled out on her lap mere minutes ago.

She doesn’t know whether she wants to slap him or kiss him. 

The answer is surprisingly easy to decipher. 

Marinette bounds to him, and throws her arms around his neck. He drops the baton to catch her, arms winding around her waist and pulling her impossibly closer and grins at her, sparing a hand to wipe her wet cheeks. 

“_Never _ do that to me again.” She forbids. “Or, I’ll kill you myself.” 

Warning responded with an appropriate handsome nod, she leans forward to kiss him. There are many ways to greet someone ― a word, a handshake, a smile, or a nod but Marinette’s new favourite one, she decided, was kissing. They’re sent stumbling into the yawn of the universe, his laugh the first symbol of her downfall. It seems shock has it’s claim on his person, at first, but it soon fades after a giggle spills out from an invisible vacuum.

How could anything ― tears, and loud laughter alike ― be contained when one was in love? 

When they draw away, two souls dazed, Chat glitters with unsung happiness. He looks confused, but purely _ happy _ and if she could, she’d kiss him several times over till they were tired, but her earrings beep and with a murmured farewell, (see: kiss) she flies into the unknown, love her wings. 

* * *

  
“Tikki!” Marinette falls back into her chair with a squeal, glowing and looking absolutely radial. “I kissed _ him _. Chat Noir.”

Tikki flutters onto her nose. “I’m proud of you, Marinette! Did he say anything afterwards?”

“I had to leave before any talking, or rather, more kissing happened.”

“_Marinette _!” Her kwami admonishes, though there's only teasing and a strong tone of happiness in her expression. Her phone buzzes, buzzes, buzzes, the rings an unmistakable symbol from Tumblr. “Looks like Chat Noir has plenty to say.”

The heat rises to her cheeks, unbidden like fire drawn. 

**meowkitten**

Is that how we say goodbye now?

I adore you, My Lady 

<33333

“Tikki!” Marinette whines, pressing her palms onto her cheeks, before gesturing wildly. “Why does he have to be like this? I’m _ only _ mortal.”

**spottedlady**

;)

**meowkitten**

My Ladyyyy.

**spottedlady**

only bark and not bite, are you Chaton?

**meowkitten**

Are you offering to perform both?

**spottedlady**

That depends.

**meowkitten**

I’ll pay your price.

**spottedlady**

Meet me at Rose Boulangerie on Rue 4? 

**meowkitten**

That's no price, My Lady. Only a reward.

**spottedlady**

*inserts a gif of me rolling my eyes*

**meowkitten**

We’ll talk then? :)

**spottedlady**

I’ll bring the pastries.

* * *

They don't do much talking that night. How could they, when they were privy to a spot nestled and tucked away, the lights of the Eiffel tower glittering in the distance, it's reflection shadowing her partners face. 

His cheekbones are even more prominent in the fading dusk, and his smile is impossible to ignore. It's a wonder Marinette kept herself from combusting on the spot. 

Chat lightd up when he seed her, and sweeps into a bow. “My Lady.” He brandishes her a bouquet of flowers. “How are you doing on this ―"

Marinette steals the breath from his lungs, trades it for a kiss. “Lovely.”

He presses a kiss on her forehead, and nearly laughing hysterically, spins her around. The world is static, and perhaps, it sounded cliché but Marinette felt faint towards their joint giddiness. The universe isn’t perfect, far from it, with it’s occasionally glitches but with Chat, it seems like the word had potential to be glorious and beautiful. They are two shooting stars, once light years apart, arriving at the same destination. 

“I love you.” Marinette murmurs, under the curve of the moon and the twinkling constellations. “With every breath I have.” 

Chat beams. “I love you, I love you, I love you. Some could say you’re the raison to my berry existence..”

“Now that we’re dating ―” 

“Are we?” 

Marinette peeks up at him. It seemed unfair that even on her tiptoes, he remained outrageously tall. “Choose one. Oui or non.” 

“Oui.”

She covers her face, so her won’t see the grin that remakes her face. Fact Number 323 about love: It had the potential to kill, and the potential to cause a rebirth. “No more drastic puns, though, Chaton, I’m begging.” 

“And, here I thought you had your head on your shoulders, My Lady. You know, Marie-Antoinette à la fin de sa vie, n’avait plus trop la tête sur les épaules…"

_ Marie-Antoinette, at the end of her life, did not have a good head on her shoulders. _

Almost as one, her groan and his laughter rang out, a symphony of sorts, similar to the ones dancing, but the latter a melody of firsts and lasts. 

Tomorrow, when Adrien Agreste, the boy with sunshine in his eyes, and moonlight in his heart, sprouts the _ same _ pun after History class, there will be neither flecks of regret nor ignorance, but a shockingly bout of clarity, light peering behind the veil of fog. 

The lucky meet their love of their lives once, the luckier meet their soulmates twice, but the luckiest meet their partners thrice. 


End file.
